


When the Winter Winds Blow (A Mordred Collection)

by jillc



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillc/pseuds/jillc
Summary: This is three one shots based on when the older Mordred reappears in Merlin. It is about his restless journey to find a life he can fit into, it is also about his background as well. Mordred is a character, who holds a great fascination to me, especially considering how mysterious he is. I hope these three one shots, attract more people to a very underrated character on the show.





	1. Chapter 1

He moved quickly, his feet leaving a mark in the snow as he did so. By now the forest was sparse and bare, the trees had shed their leaves long ago. This time of year, always had a marked affect on Mordred. It took him back to being a young boy in the Druid camps. Back then he’d been alone, passed from camp to camp, never putting down any roots. He had felt isolated, sullen with no idea of what he would do with his life. Even now, as he shed his lonely path, he felt completely separated from people he came into contact with. He was just a loner, with his head down, moving onwards never staying anywhere for too long.

At times he thought back to the night of his separation from Kara. He had met her at the age of thirteen. From the moment he had spied her, she had fascinated him. She had come to his camp late one night. He’d heard whispers of how this young girl had arrived, all on her own. According to the Elders she had taken a vow of silence, since her arrival. For a fortnight no words had fallen from her lips. Sometimes he had spied her across the fire, encased in a world of her own. Every now and then their eyes had met, but neither reacted. At times, Mordred felt he was looking into himself when he looked at her.

It had been a week later when he had gone walking collecting herbs, when he came across her. She had been sitting by a stream, collecting wild flowers. He had sat down and watched her, pick off the petals and release them onto the breeze. He watched as they had scattered onto the ground, before dispersing away, like raindrops at the end of a storm. He had no idea how long he’d stayed observing her. Suddenly she had spied him watching her and she’d jumped up, ready to make her escape.

He jumped down from the rock he’d been sitting on and had caught up with her easily. As he approached her, he would always remember the look of fear on her face, it had shocked him. He knew he needed to act fast and he had, assuring her he meant her no harm. After a hesitation she appeared to accept his simple words and a smile transformed her face.

It was then their connection had been made, as if each had seen the answer in the other’s eyes. From that day forward, they had become inseparable. He had told her things he’d never told anyone else. She had reacted in kind, her story tumbling from her lips like water from a brook. The tongues had started to wag in the camp, once their friendship had been discovered. Yet neither cared, for they had one another and that was all each of them had ever needed.

For five whole years Mordred and Kara had been together, growing up, falling in love. But then one night, Mordred had awoken to an uncomfortable feeling. A feeling of restlessness engulfed him, making him feel trapped like an animal in a cage. The years before he’d felt contentment with Kara, were now replaced by a longing to leave and explore the world outside the Druid camp. He knew that meant they must part. He had also known she wouldn’t take kindly to it. 

She hadn’t, for three days she had refused to look or talk to him. No matter what he did or said to her, she became like the child that had arrived, all those years ago. Only the night before his departure did she eventually come around. That night, they had slept beneath a blanket of bright stars, with the moon shining down on them. He had held her tight and promised her, one day he would call for her and they would be together. But he insisted, he had to walk his path alone for now, to discover who he was. To understand what his life could be.

So here he was, wandering aimlessly trying to find something he could give himself too. As he’d walked around from village to village, he had picked up work along the way. It had kept him fed and given him places to sleep. He had become so immersed in this new restless life, that his days of being a Druid and having magic, had been suppressed deeply into his mind, completely locked away. To everyone he met, he was just an ordinary young man, trying to find his way in the world.

Yet, no matter how much had had tried to embrace his new life, it appeared as if something was missing. His inability to accept his magic in the open was like a burden, which was constantly on his mind. He had always felt as if the Druid camp was a type of prison, but now he had escaped one prison for another. Out in the real world, he could still not embrace what he truly was. Magic was feared outside, people had no need for it, it was something which had been locked away, for the dangerous thing it was.

But he knew that was wrong. How could he fully encase himself into life, if he was having to reject a part of himself? Magic was inside him, it was something he could never erase from his being, even if he wanted too. But he knew his problem was others would not accept his magical side, thus he would be forced to deny it. So, in the end he accepted this was the way it had to be.

The next two years he had drifted around without finding anything that meant much to him. He met one group of people and then exchanged them for another group. He made few friends, he kept himself aloof and alone. He soon had it down to a tee, he had almost entirely forgotten his background, the Druid camps, even Kara was a distant memory. He threw himself into the life around him, earning enough to live, but never truly existing either. Then one day a name was mentioned which took him back in time. He’d been standing in line waiting to buy some bread when he’d overheard a conversation.

Two men to the side of him were talking about a slave trade dealer called Ragnor, who was taking some men to Ismere. It was only when the name Morgana was mentioned that Mordred gave a start. Morgana! How long was it since he’d last seen her, he wondered? He had never truly forgotten the young woman who had saved his life, that wretched day in Camelot. When he had lost all hope after losing the one person who meant anything to him; she had come into his life and showed him the love he had never truly experienced before. He remembered Arthur too, the young Prince who had taken him back to the Druids. That day he had learnt that sometimes people could show kindness, to others. 

From the moment Morgana’s name came up, Mordred had decided he must see her once again. He was determined to find work with Ragnor and go to Ismere and rediscover the young woman whom he had never forgotten. He wondered if she’d changed much from the last time, he’d seen her. It made him think again of the days he’d been with the elusive Alvarr. Mordred looked back on the times with mixed feelings. He had realised now that Alvarr had used him, for his powers. But it had at least given him the chance to meet once again with Morgana. Once more, she had chosen to help him, Mordred knew even now she would do so once again. All he needed now was a plan and maybe then the life he longed for, would open up for him, he could then find a life he could accept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred manages to arrange a meeting with Ragnor and become a part of his next trip to Ismere. As Mordred looks forward to reuniting with Morgana, an unexpected meeting occurs which brings him face to face with someone from his past.

Mordred had managed to engineer a meeting with Ragnor, through an acquaintance. But so far, he had not been allowed on any trips to Ismere. Ragnor did not instantly trust any newcomer. Instead Mordred had to content himself with working on the fringes of the group. Eventually he moved up into the trapping team, whose job it was to round up men who could then be traded for profit. 

Mordred didn’t especially like the work and at times it was hard not to sympathize with the men caught up in it. But he told himself it was only a temporary basis until he could find Morgana. Every six weeks Ragnor would take a new group of men to Ismere. But he would only take his most experienced men on these trips, leaving Mordred behind kicking his heels in annoyance.

By now, the first signs of winter had arrived making the days shorter and the nights colder. As he watched the daylight hours become ever shorter, Mordred grew frustrated. He knew in the weeks ahead the snow would arrive, making any chances of going to Ismere more difficult. Once, Mordred had been tempted to take his chance, and just leave and make his own way there. But he knew, it was long and hostile journey and he’d have little chance of making it alone. In the end, he decided to bide his time and be patient. It seemed as if Morgana had a permanent base there now. He had since found out that she was looking for the Diamair, which was believed to be hiding in a nearby cave. 

He had remembered one of the Elders at the Druid camp speaking about the Diamair many years before. It had left him spellbound when he considered how she had so much power in her mind. As a boy he had wondered what it was like, to have a gift such as that, at your disposal. 

He had learnt through bitter experiences since that possessing any kind of power could be a mixed blessing. He had suffered at the hands of others. Those experiences had left him both confused and mentally scarred. All because of what lay deep within him. Since those days, he learnt to be warier among people. In particular, non-magical people who held a deep-rooted fear of magic.

Telfane, who was Ragnors’ elderly partner, had said Morgana was very keen to find the Diamair. Mordred found the old man quite easy to get on with, he was more likeable than Ragnor, who Mordred considered was cruel and savage. Telfane also seemed to be quite knowledgeable about Morgana. He suspected the old man had magic in his background, but he knew better than to ask the question. In the outside world magic was still treated with mistrust and Mordred saw no point, in bringing unnecessary attention to himself. 

He sat down, looking at one of the maps that Ragnor had brought back from Ismere. He was really hoping that he would soon get his chance, and leave this god forsaken place he was currently residing at. He jumped up as the door opened, but it was only Telfane who grinned at Mordred’s reaction.

“Don’t worry Mordred, Ragnor is still out,” Telfane assured him, “Why don’t you sit down I will let you into a secret,”

Mordred sat down on the chair and looked over at Telfane. “What secret?”

“One of Ragnor’s old accomplishes died last night. He will be looking for someone else to accompany him on the next trip. You need to keep your head down, study that map and hope luck pays you a call,” Telfane grinned, showing his yellow teeth.

“Can’t you just ask him for me?” Mordred asked, sounding keener than he intended.

“No one suggests anything to Ragnor, you wait to be invited,” the old man grumbled,

“I haven’t got time for that,” Mordred snapped, feeling suddenly impatient.

“Why are you so keen to go to Ismere anyway? It is an horrific place, out in the open, with bad spirits running free everywhere,” Telfane said, “Then there is the demonic High Priestess Morgana, rumours have it she is going out of her mind,”

Mordred looked up, “What do you mean going out of her mind? You have never said that before,”

“The rumours are she is obsessed about finding the Diamair, then she will use it to force magic back into Camelot and finish off the Pendragons,”

Mordred considered the information silently. It didn’t sound like the old Morgana he knew. She had been such a kind-hearted woman who had showed a scared young boy compassion. On the other hand, he wondered how much Telfane actually knew. He was about to ask another question when suddenly the door opened and Ragnor crashed in.

“What are you staring at boy?” he snapped, at Mordred.

Mordred followed Telfane’s advice and remained looking at the map, learning every detail and memorising each path that was on it. Presently, the old men had forgotten all about him, he continued to study the map while listening in on their conversation.

“So, you will be looking for someone else to accompany you then, Ragnor,” Telfane smiled,

“God help me, there is not much of a choice, in the imbeciles I have at the moment,” Radnor replied, grabbing at a bottle and pouring it down his mouth quickly. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“I have a suggestion,” Telfane replied, leaning forward.

“You?” Ragnor laughed, “What would you know about anything?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Telfane answered, “I think you should take Mordred here with you. He’s been studying that map for days. I dare say he would know every path off by heart by now.”

Ragnor turned around and regarded Mordred with distaste.

“Read a map can you boy?” He snarled,

“I can get by,” Mordred replied meeting the old man’s hard stare.

Ragnor looked down at him, and for a second Mordred held his breath. Surely he was the obvious choice now? Mordred knew none of the other boys seemed that special, most were content to just stay and survive. 

After what seemed like an age, Ragnor gave his answer. “We start early tomorrow, the moment the sun comes up, we leave. If you aren’t there we won’t wait for you,”

“I’ll be ready,” Mordred said, getting up and deciding an early night would be a good idea. 

He heard Ragnor laugh, as he slammed the door behind him. Soon he’d be able to leave Ragnor and his gang of nobodies far away. Hopefully he would have a better future with Morgana. As he thought about her once again, he knew that was the only thing he cared about.

Next Day

The journey had started at first light, with a dark and forbidding sky above them. Mordred had put layers on underneath his black coat and he was happy he had kept his old furry hat that Kara had given him. He wondered for a second about how she was. He hoped she was okay, but knew he could not take this journey with her. A weak sun shone above them, yet it never managed to cut into the increasingly frozen temperature around them. A couple of hours later Mordred felt cold beyond belief, where they were going it would get colder still. He travelled at the front of the cart; the caught men were tied to the back of it and pulled along at great speed. Many had only rags on and were already showing signs of distress. Ragnor seemed in a hurry and continually shouted at the party, his voice echoing around the hills as they passed them. On a couple of occasions Mordred had tried to get Ragnor to slow the pace, some of the captured men were old and could barely keep up. But the leader was on a mission determined to reach Ismere in record time.

To begin with they travelled through open country, with plenty of green still left to be seen, but the wintery winds blew right through him. They stopped once briefly and shared some rabbit; the prisoners were fed with scraps. Mordred not for the first time had to force himself, to pretend not to care. Ragnor was by now fully in his element, as he played with his prisoner’s hunger and desperation. Watching him, through half closed eyes Mordred felt nothing but utter contempt. 

There was little cover where they were and he wondered how they would make it through the night, when it would become even colder. He suspected Ragnor had a place where they could shelter, but he was giving no clues to Mordred. The young Druid, sat quietly and silently glowered at him, but decided to keep a low profile.

The cold was only slightly easier to deal with, when they were on the move once again, the temperature dropping the further north they went. Within a couple of hours the daylight was fading fast and Mordred suspected they were heading for a place to shelter for the night. In the far distance he could see the snowy capped mountains that they would face tomorrow. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Eventually, they came to a clearing and Ragnor shouted for them to stop.

Mordred heard a distant call of a wolf and not for the first time, wondered how anything could survive in such an isolated place. It was so open with little cover anywhere. Ragnor was shouting orders and Mordred watched as men were despatched in different directions. When they had been dealt with, he turned to Mordred.

“Make sure these men are shackled anyone escapes I will hold you responsible,” He barked, moving off.

“Where are you going?” Mordred asked, unable not to be curious.

Ragnor turned around, he was holding two rabbits and a sly grin came onto his face, “I am about to set a trap boy, let’s see who else we can catch,”

Mordred watched him go thinking he’d have little chance of catching anyone, who would be mad enough to be anywhere near this place? With Ragnor out of sight, Mordred took bits of food and dropped them by the prisoner’s feet. He took special care to pick the ones who looked as though they most needed it. He made sure he wasn’t seen, knowing Ragnor would be furious. But it made him feel a little bit better for his own piece of mind. In different circumstances, he could have been in their situation. Eventually Ragnor came back, aiming a kick at various prisoners, a large rabbit still in his hand.

“A trap has been set,” he grinned, tossing the rabbit at one of the younger boys and shouting at them to cook it on the fire. 

Mordred looked ahead in the distance. All he could see was a long, open road, once in a while a falcon would fly across the sky crying out a warning. The noise made him shudder inwardly; it reminded him of the nights he spent in the camps of his Druid childhood. There he would sleep under the stars, with only the calls of nature for company. Those nights he would often remember the woman who had kept him alive when he’d been in Camelot. Despite what Telfane said, he could not imagine Morgana as a demonic woman. Not when she had fought so long to give a stranger such kindness. Soon, he hoped they would be reunited once again and he would be able to begin a new chapter of his life.

He awoke early and looked around. Most of the prisoners will still sleeping, but he couldn’t see Ragnor anywhere. Telling one of the younger boys to keep watch he decided to take a look and see where the old man had gone. He easily traced Ragnor’s boot tracks in the mud and was soon going through the forest, following the trail. He was walking for a few minutes when suddenly he heard voices. Creeping carefully through some trees, the voices becoming closer he crouched down further. 

Ahead was a patch of grass, with a big tree overhead. He got down on his knees and as his eyes looked far in the distance, he could see Ragnor his sword held aloft over two young men. They were both on the ground. As Mordred starred, he guessed one of the men was a servant due to his tatty clothes, while the other he suspected was his master. It was obvious that the old man was threatening them, for a moment Mordred wondered what to do.

Suddenly the wind blew and Mordred caught their voices on the breeze. The shock of hearing them, made him rock back on his heels. He strained forward once more wanting to confirm with his eyes, what he thought he had already heard. As he took in the features of the scruffy dark-haired man, he could finally confirm it was indeed the man they called Emrys. He knew the other man would be Arthur, the King of Camelot. He made a sudden decision and walked towards them. As he approached, Ragnor had his sword on the two men and was moving closer to them with a determination. He hadn’t even sensed Mordred.

“Stop,” Mordred called, walking straight passed a surprised and shocked looking Emrys. Mordred almost laughed at the look on the warlock’s face. It seemed Mordred was the last person he’d been expecting to see. Mordred cut him off and walked up to Ragnor. “Shouldn’t we allow the Lady Morgana to decide their fate?”

Ragnor turned his head towards Mordred with a leer, then he slowly lowered his sword.

Mordred caught Emrys’s eye, but he showed him little regard and instead went over to where Arthur was still crouched down. Mordred offered his hand to him, Arthur looked up in surprise at him. But he accepted Mordred’s help and the Druid pulled him up, till he was right alongside him. Mordred could see the confusion on Arthur’s face and realised he had no idea who he was. He decided to remind him.

With a smile Mordred said, “You don’t recognise me,”

Arthur looked at him, as if trying to remember his face but Mordred could tell he was struggling.

“You saved my life once many years ago,” Mordred prompted him, but still it seemed Arthur couldn’t recall. It was Emrys who with a shocked whisper gave the answer.

“Mordred,” Emrys whispered drily as if desperate for a drink

For the first time Mordred looked straight at the sorcerer, and his mouth turned and grinned though not with any warmth. He turned to a surprised Arthur and said,

“Hello Arthur,” 

A couple of hours later they were all walking down the road, all the while the weather getting extremely cold. For the first time they had encountered deep snow as they travelled further north. Arthur and Merlin had been tied to the front of the wagon being pulled along with the rest of the prisoners. Even as he walked Mordred could feel Emrys’s eyes boring into his very soul. He tried to put it out of his mind. From the first time they had met there had been a distance between the two of them. In the Druid camp the name of Emrys was revered and Mordred had been so excited when he had come across him. Yet even then, Mordred had sensed something troubled Emrys about him. At the first meeting he hadn’t really taken much notice, just being in his presence had been enough. But the moment he had said goodbye he sensed it once again. He had said they would meet again and they had.

There was also an unescapable truth to the fact that Mordred’s existence had always appeared to cause unease wherever he went. No one could ever seemingly tell him why, he would just be aware of the looks that people gave him. The suspicion that existed in each camp, in each meeting that the youngster had had. It was something he could never quite avoid, he would regard it with a cold detachment pretending not to care, but in truth it hurt him. It was hard being an outsider.

By now there was snow everywhere, many feet deep. Mordred pulled his hat further down onto his head and pulled his coat around his body more. The daylight hours were vanishing and Mordred knew soon they would be stopping. His stomach by now was hungry and every step felt harder to undertake. He closed his eyes trying to blank his mind of any negative thoughts. But having Arthur and Emrys here now, had forced him back in time. Once more the questions that stalked his mind came back with a vengeance. Maybe this was a time when he could get the answers for what he longed to know. 

Within an hour they had found a place to stop. Ragnor had eaten, but Mordred felt awkward suddenly. He barely touched anything despite his hunger; all he could see was Emrys’s gaze which every now and then descended on him, like a raging storm. Ragnor too had noticed and decided to have some fun. 

“What are you gawping at? He cried, then picking up a bread roll he held it up. “Is this what you want?”

Mordred watched the scene with a quiet distaste and embarrassment. He watched as the bread roll was thrown over to Emrys. The sorcerer had made an involuntary movement towards it. But Ragnor had predictably thrown it short of him, and the rope prevented Emrys from reaching it. He went hungry.

“Maybe we should feed them?” Mordred had said quietly.

“What for? They’ll be skin and bones. Morgana wants slaves, not hogs for the fire,” Ragnor replied, with a grin.

“Then slow the pace,” Mordred urged,

“The quicker we get there, the quicker I get my money,” Ragnor scowled and walked away. 

Mordred made a sudden decision, he picked up a couple of pieces of bread and slowly walked over towards Emrys, his eyes never leaving his face. Once more, Mordred could sense the cold feeling from the other sorcerer, as he watched Mordred’s approach. 

Mordred lent over towards him and left the bread by Emrys’s feet. “Do you want them?” he asked, He watched Emrys eye them, before looking up and staring straight through Mordred.

“Why are you doing this?” Emrys asked coldly,

Mordred took a deep breath, than looked at Emrys straight into his eyes, “He once saved my life. I owe him a debt. Don’t be so quick to judge me.” Mordred paused before continuing, “You fear me Emrys don’t you? I know the hatred and suspicion with which men treat those with magic. You and I are not so different. I too, have learnt to hide my gifts. I promise your secret is safe with me….”For a second there was a brief pause, while both sorcerers regarded one another. Knowing he’d done what he could, Mordred began to walk away. Emrys’s voice broke on the cold air.

“What is Morgana looking for in Ismere?” Emrys asked,

Mordred turned around, “The Diamair,”

“What’s that?” Emrys asked, a coldness still in his voice.

“In the language of my people, it means The Key,” Mordred explained mysteriously,

“The Key to what?” Emrys persisted,

“The Key to all knowledge,” Mordred replied, after a brief smile over his shoulder he walked away and sat down by a snoring Radnor.  
He tried to stay awake, though his eyes kept wanting to close. He thought about the conversation he’d had with Emrys. Before they had always spoken telepathically but by now talking normally was a habit that Mordred followed. What he’d said to Emrys was true. He had learnt to hide his gifts. He had done it so well, that at times he struggled to remember he had magic. Once he’d made the decision to leave the camps, he knew he had to find himself. He learnt early on that it would be easier by pretending to be “normal”. 

He had learnt to his cost how magic frightened people. So, from now on he vowed he would hide his true self. It made him feel more isolated, but he was used to that. He didn’t have to pretend to be anyone now, he was just another young man trying to see where he fitted into the world.

The sun was beginning to creep over a cloud up ahead, Mordred was thankful for the brief respite of warmth. Within minutes it had vanished and once more he was shivering, while keeping an eye on Emrys. All night, the sorcerer had stayed awake, as if daring someone to come and threaten his King. Mordred would have almost admired his determination, had it not been for the series of unfriendly looks which were thrown his way. Emrys didn’t trust Mordred, the young man knew that much. He had hoped by trying to connect to him, he would see a different side to him. But going by the glares which kept coming over towards him, he knew it had failed. 

He realised he shouldn’t be that surprised. The last meeting between the two of them, had seen to that. Even now, Mordred could remember the moment Emrys had tripped him up, he could see the Camelot soldier running towards him, about to end his life. He could see the man’s bloated face as threw himself forward, but Mordred had been too quick. In one moment, he had controlled the spear and thrust it into the guard, ending his life quickly and brutally. After that he had turned and faced Emrys telling him, “I shall never forgive this Emrys, and I shall never forget.”

As he thought back to that moment, he wondered if that was the event which would forever define their relationship. For whatever reason, Mordred had finally accepted that their paths were not going to be the same. It seemed fate had decided they’d go in different directions, he reasoned that he was best just to accept his lot. Maybe this was the way it was always meant to be.

 

Two Hours Later

They had been walking for two hours through heavy snow. Their feet leaving a trail of marks which within minutes would disappear under a new dusting of falling snow. Mordred had never felt so cold in his life. Even his coat no longer seemed to keep him warm, it was as if the cold had managed to find its way into every seam. His teeth were almost chattering, his body shivering and still more snow poured out of the sky.

A strange atmosphere had taken over the party now. Ragnor was in a nasty mood, he’d already had a go at Arthur Pendragon. Hearing Arthur and Emrys arguing he had punched the young King in the stomach, then insulted him as he lay there in the snow. Mordred had watched the scene closely, not fooled by anything. All day, Emrys and Arthur’s heads had been together, Mordred could sense there was a plan about to be hatched. He kept looking back at them, as if expecting something to happen. Each time, Emrys would glower back at him, as if daring him to speak.

When nothing had happened for another hour, Mordred had let his guard down and that is all it took. Suddenly pandemonium had taken over. Someone had pulled the ropes and everything had fallen off the back of the cart. Ragnor roared loudly, going over to investigate. “Who did this, who?” 

Mordred watched, as Arthur slyly nodded over to Emrys,

Emyrs had said, “We need to rest,”

Ragnor eyed him defiantly crying out, “Right, you can rest forever!”

He went to draw his sword, only to be beaten to it by Arthur swinging his at Ragnor and knocking him down on the ground. As the guards including Mordred came running, Emrys had used magic to cause a further diversion, resulting in confusion. Mordred suddenly saw Arthur and Emrys running up a hill, he took off after them. His boots though were not giving him much grip and a on a couple of moments, he’d had to slow down to regain his balance. That had given Arthur enough time to escape onto the other side of the path. By the time Mordred had got close, Emrys too was scrambling over onto the other side of the cliff.

Mordred by now had got to the end of the path, he took one look at the drop and knew he had little chance of giving chase. But worse than that, Arthur had his cross bow pointed at the Druid. For a moment, Mordred thought his life had come to a, premature end. He was entirely in Arthur’s mercy nowhere to run too, no cover for him to hide in. He looked across at Arthur, the young King looked at him. Mordred got ready for the moment the arrow, would bring his life to an end, he half closed his eyes. But the ending never came, he opened them to see Emrys looking at Arthur and demanding him to end the Druid’s life.

Once more, he waited for the moment, he saw Arthur’s finger move and lightly pull the wire back. He tensed, but remained planted on the spot. Once more, Arthur looked him in the eyes and then Mordred realised he was not going to do anything. For a second, he remained still, then he slowly turned away from them and made his way back towards Ragnor and the group. All the time, he could hear Emrys roaring at Arthur, but he continued to walk forward. All the time, wondering why it was that Arthur had let him go. He could have killed him at any time, but instead he had spared his life, despite Emrys’s angry pleas. Yet again questions plagued his mind, for which he could find no answers, just more riddles.

They resumed the journey after Ragnor had a go at everyone, including Mordred. But Mordred cared little, he was still consumed by a question that kept playing on in his mind. Why had he been spared? For the rest of the journey Mordred could find no clear answer but for once was happy to take this lucky break. Maybe one day, he would meet Arthur once again and he would ask that very same question.

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred arrives in Ismere, longing to be reconciled with Morgana once again. Having met up though, he realises she is a much changed individual and decides to test her, to see if she is as far gone, as Telfane claimed. Fate then throws him back with Arthur and Emrys and suddenly Mordred is facing a difficult choice all over again.

Ragnor’s party arrived in Ismere in the late afternoon. Already the light was beginning to fade. The fortress stood in the middle of the Northern Plains, a land of frozen snow and isolated from any other form of life. As they approached the fortress, two men came and inspected their human cargo. While they were checking Ragnor’s credentials, another guard eyed Mordred suspiciously. The Druid kept eye contact without being too hostile about it. For a second, they both stared but a shout from his colleague persuaded the guard to leave. Eventually the party was waved through the gate into the courtyard.

The courtyard inside was very big and square in shape, dominated by the tower which transcended over everything else. Mordred had never seen a bigger or more menacing place. For a second, he remembered the conversation with Telfane, of how Ismere was full of bad spirits running everywhere. As he turned around taking everything in, Mordred could well imagine such a possibility. His attention was brought to the present by Ragnor’s shout.

“Mordred, are you, deaf boy?” He cried out,

“I heard you,” Mordred lied glaring,

“I am going to find Morgana, you stay here and make sure no one moves anyone. I need to see the money first,” Ragnor barked.

Mordred nodded and watched Ragnor walk away to a building where he began talking nosily to the guard. After checking the prisoners were as decent as possible, he stood behind the cart, waiting for Ragnor’s reappearance. He took another chance to look around him, there were many men running around looking busy. In one of the corners of the yard he noticed a group of men coming out of a door. He saw the dirt on the faces, he guessed this was where the entrance to the cave was. 

Somewhere down there was the Diamair he thought to himself. He wondered if he would get the chance to see her himself? Maybe he could ask her the questions that still plagued his mind. He was in such deep thought, that to begin with he didn’t sense the feeling. But as he came too, he had the impression that something had connected to him. All at once he noticed Ragnor, following someone and shouting.

“I think you will find that the Lady Morgana, will need to see these slaves for herself,” he claimed, though the man with him didn’t seem too bothered.

Mordred watched the scene with a sense of wonder, Ragnor thought himself so important, but to most people he was just a nobody. Mordred grunted and was just about to turn away when a figure stood a little way down from him. She was dressed in black, her dark hair longer than he remembered. But the face he recognised instantly and suddenly a fresh feeling of emotion overcame him.

He stood rooted to the spot as she came towards him, dismissing Ragnor with one uninterested look. She stopped before him and Mordred watched her taking in his face, as if not quite believing it was him, knowing he had the same emotion as her. It was an age as they stood together, then she reached her hand up touching his face gently.

“Mordred,” she said simply, her face transformed by a dazzling smile.

Mordred smiled he was too far gone for any words. He didn’t even notice Ragnor glaring at the pair of them. Within minutes Mordred was leaving the party behind and following Morgana up some steps. They eventually reached a door, on the other side was a square room with a table laden with some food and a jug on it. 

“Please sit down, Mordred,” Morgana pointed at a chair. 

Before long Mordred was tucking into chicken and washing it down with some weak wine. He smiled at the wonder on Morgana’s face as she sat opposite him.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she began, “I thought you were dead. It dangerous for those of us with magic,”

Mordred sat back for a second, letting the food go down. “It’s not been easy,” he admitted.

“For any of us,” Morgana agreed, cutting up an apple.

Mordred watched her carefully, “Sorcery frightens people, even those who claim to support it,”

“You see a lot,” Morgana replied, as if impressed by Mordred’s words.

He sighed deeply, reliving the past once again. “I’ve learnt too. I’ve had too. If I was not to be burnt at the stake, or exploited for another man’s gain,”

“Attitudes will change soon,” Morgana said, “The Old Religion will reign once more. There will be nothing to fear, once Arthur and his kind are cleansed from the earth,”

Mordred noticed the changed tone of Morgana’s voice once Arthur had been mentioned. He took a deep breath and decided to test the waters a bit.

“You know,” Mordred began, “We had Arthur in our grasp. He escaped,”

“You let him go?” it was more an accusation rather than a question.

“He got away,” Mordred explained, aware of a rise of tension in her features.

“How? Who let him go?” Morgana snapped, as if not listening.

“It was an accident,” Mordred shrugged, looking nervously at her.

Suddenly she was up banging the table and screaming, “KILL HIM! That’s all they had to do! I am a High Priestess!”

Mordred was stunned at the change in her features, her face had turned red and her whole manner was aggressive and a demented tone had entered her voice. He sat looking at her, trying to calm her down.

“Morgana,” he soothed, appealing to her, but she was off again.

“I want his annulation Mordred. I want to put his head on a spike and watch as the crows feast on his eyes,”

Mordred took a deep breath, still in shock at the sudden change in her. Telfane had described her as demonic, now Mordred had seen it for himself. Suddenly he was unsure about what to do or what to say. There was an awkward silence, while he tried to think of a way, of calming her down. The warning bell went off, he looked away in surprise but once more her demented voice forced him to look at her.

“Arthur!” she whispered, her face a mixture of madness and delight. Without another word she was off out of the room, forcing Mordred to follow her out. 

They were back down the steps and going across the courtyard. Mordred just about noticed that the cart with the prisoners was nowhere to be seen now. He almost had trouble keeping up with Morgana as she moved with speed. Before long they had reached a door, a guard opened the door, looking questioningly at Mordred but letting him pass.

Before long they were going down more steps and Mordred knew he’d been right. They were going down into the caves. Straight away he could almost feel the walls closing in on him as he went further underground. At one stage he took a light from one of the guards, but Morgana was walking on quickly, as if being led by her senses. 

Mordred noticed some prisoners working away with their pick forks. There were numerous guards keeping watch, they acknowledged Morgana as she passed, but she barely noticed. Mordred wondered where she was leading him.

“Where are we going Morgana?” He asked, suddenly sweating into his coat.

“We have a meeting with my brother to attend,” she answered mysteriously,

“How do you know where he is?” Mordred asked,

“I know what my brother is like Mordred. He will be attempting to rescue his men he’s always had a soft side to him. He doesn’t have the mental toughness that I possess. It’s always been a weakness in him. I know these caves well, eventually they will lead us to him,” Morgana laughed,

Mordred grimaced, then what he wondered to himself? Either way he knew for now he would have to follow her, as much to save her from herself.   
The further they went down into the caves the windier and darker it became. Mordred at times struggled for breath, as the air became more constricted. He stayed close to Morgana who appeared to know exactly where, she was heading for now. They were so deep underground he could hear their footsteps echo around them. There seemed to be less-guards patrolling the area they were heading into. It suddenly occurred to Mordred, that Morgana was heading Arthur off. As he continued to follow her, a flush of tension entered his mind. 

As he relived their short-lived conversation, he was under no illusion what she’d do. It still shocked him to remember the way her brief happy demeanour transformed, at the mention of Arthur’s name. He had inwardly dismissed Telfane’s description of her as demonic, yet that was exactly how she behaved in that moment. As he remembered her anger, he knew he could well be forced to make a choice between them. It was not something that made him happy, as he realised, he owed them both something.

After a few more minutes they turned a corner, Mordred tensed once more as he heard footsteps coming the other way. He stopped behind Morgana, in time to see Arthur arrive the other way. He watched as Arthur quickly went to unleash his sword, then the young King realised he didn’t have it with him. Mordred shuddered, as he listened to Morgana’s glee.

“Oh dear,” she said, disdainfully, “How remiss of you. Your bravery is matched only by your stupidity. What on earth, did you think you would achieve, coming here?”

“I’m here to free my men,” Arthur replied, looking straight at her.

“Fleoge!” Morgana cried, as a magical dagger, stabbed Arthur making him fall over. “This time it seems there really is no way out,”

Mordred watched the scene unfold carefully between brother and sister. The dagger had only pierced Arthur’s tunic. But he knew things could deteriorate quickly in the mood Morgana was in.

“I’m sorry for what our father did to you,” Arthur appealed, still looking at Morgana.

“Uther was never my father!” Morgana spat out,

“But we are brother and sister,” Arthur pointed out, in a soft voice.

“Funny how you only remember that, with my dagger at your back,” she replied with contempt.

“What happened to you Morgana? As a child you were always so kind, so compassionate,” Arthur spoke, with a deep regret.

Mordred continued to watch the scene before him, keeping quiet but taking everything in. As Arthur asked the question it resonated only too well with Mordred. What had turned Morgana so spiteful and mean spirited? As a boy he remembered her as a young woman prepared to defy the ruthless King Uther, for a child she’d never met. How had life changed her from that, to the person he’d seen only minutes earlier?

“I grew up. You are right to cower before my hand. I am more powerful than you can ever imagine,” she boasted, making the dagger stab him another time.

Arthur’s reply was quick and to the point. “And yet with all that, you choose to do nothing but hate,” 

“Uther taught me well,” Morgana crowed in triumph, 

Mordred grimaced at Morgana’s reply. He didn’t doubt that she had suffered in her time in Camelot. All magic users had, after all. But was violence their only ally in the fight for acceptance? He’d had the conversation many a time with others, including Kara. For all the passion she had displayed in those arguments, if was yet to convince Mordred entirely. 

Surely persuasion was the best course of action, rather than making the divide even bigger between those with and without magic? He wasn’t convinced that Morgana would see it that way though. His eyes returned to the confrontation.

“Goodbye Arthur Pendragon,” Morgana shouted out,

“Arthur!”

Just then out of nowhere, Emrys came running through the cave. He was about to use his magic on Morgana, Mordred took out his sword, but Morgana got their first, knocking Emrys off his feet and into the wall. Mordred watched him over Morgana’s shoulder. But Emrys seemed out of it.

“No! Morgana please,” Arthur begged, looking across at his friend.

“Don’t speak, dear brother,” Morgana spat, using the dagger to stab him once again. “It’s too late, Hine….”

Suddenly out of nowhere, Mordred made his move. Taking his dagger, he’d hidden under his coat, he stabbed Morgana in her side. He felt her body go limp he cushioned her fall. The last thing he saw was the agony on her face, as she looked up at him in sadness and shock.

“Mordred!” she said simply, before her body hit the floor.

For a few minutes Mordred stayed with her, breathing heavily. He checked her relieved that the wound wasn’t deep. He suspected she would be unconscious for a while but would then awake. It had been the hardest thing for him to do, as he thought about what he owed her. But he knew deep in his mind, he could not let her kill Arthur.

While it was true that magic was still banned in Camelot, he felt sure that one day Arthur may think differently about magic. He had seen enough compassion in him to feel that he needed, to at least give the young King a chance. He had seen something in him, in the confrontation that made him want to trust him and give Arthur an opportunity. Surely, he owed the man who’d taken him back to the Druids, that much?

He got hold of Arthur’s arm and softly pulled him up, so Arthur’s arm was over his shoulder. He then slowly moved off, glancing at Emrys as he passed him. He wasn’t sure how badly hurt Arthur was and knew he was his priority. Although deep down inside, he knew too he had unresolved issues with Emrys. It was something he knew he’d have to confront one day. But for now, Arthur was his main concern.

As they walked around the corner from where Arthur had arrived, Mordred heard footsteps. He had his hand on his dagger just in case, suddenly he came across a group of men. There were two bare-chested men at the front, one who was fair and very tall, and his colleague who was dark and had a beard. 

“Arthur!” the tall man shouted.

Mordred moved aside, so he could take Arthur from him, the other man came forward and took the King’s other arm. They both looked at him suspiciously, Mordred decided he had to say something.

“I’m Mordred, he was hurt in a confrontation with Morgana,”

“Where is she?” Gwaine asked,

“I stabbed her,” Mordred answered,

“Was she dead?” 

“I’m not sure, I needed to see to the King. I left her there,” Mordred explained,

“Well our first concern is to accompany the King back to Camelot. I am Percival,” the big man said, putting his hand out to Mordred.

“I’m Gwaine,” Gwaine replied, a glint in the eye.

“Was another man with him?” Percival asked Mordred.

For a second Mordred was tempted to lie, but soon his conscious got the better of him, so he answered truthfully.

“He had taken a blow, I couldn’t bring them both out,” Mordred replied,

“Can you help Gwaine, with the King. I will go back for Merlin,” Percival said, 

“Yes, of course,” Mordred took the Kings arm watching as Percival walked away.

“Let’s put him over here,” Gwaine suggested, “I’ll look at him,”

They carefully put the King down on the ground. Mordred counted another six men in their numbers. He watched as Gwaine, gave Arthur the once over. 

The King was still unconscious. To Mordred’s untrained eye the stabbing did not look too bad, he was pretty sure Arthur would come through it. He just hoped the same was true of Morgana. Then remembering that Percival could be facing her, a thought came into his mind.

“Should I go and help Percival?” Mordred suggested, “I mean what if Morgana is awakes, she has magic,”

“There wouldn’t be anything you could do about that would there?” Gwaine pointed out.

Mordred blushed as he realised how close he’d come to giving himself away. “No, of course not,” 

“Percival is well able to take care of himself,” Gwaine muttered, “Well, I think the King will be okay. We need to get him back to Gaius though. So, the sooner we leave here the better,”

Within a couple of minutes Percival came out carrying the unconscious Merlin. He put him over his horse.

“How is Arthur?” Percival asked,  
“He should be okay the wound is not deep. But we need to get back to Camelot,” Gwaine cautioned.

The two men mounted their horse, leaving Mordred at a loss of what to do. Suddenly Gwaine looked at him as if taking pity.

“You can hitch a ride to Camelot with us, I’m sure the King would like to thank you once he awakens,”

Before he knew it, Mordred had climbed behind Gwaine and the party swiftly made their way back home.

Week Later

Within days of arriving in Camelot, Mordred had already had the thanks from Queen Guinevere, for his part in helping Arthur. The King himself was making rapid progress and had asked to see the young man. Even now, Mordred found it hard to believe that he was back at Camelot. He knocked on the door.

“Come in,”

Mordred opened the door to find Arthur leaning against his table. The King smiled as Mordred came over.

“How are you sire?” Mordred asked, noticing a bandage underneath his shirt.

“Oh, I will be fine. Luckily the wound wasn’t that deep,” Arthur replied, “Sit down Mordred,”

“Thank you,”

“First of all, I would like to thank you. It can’t have been easy stabbing my sister. I remember you and her having a bond,”

“I can’t deny that. I will always be grateful to her for doing so much for me, when I was a boy. But I also owed you a debt as you took me back to the Druids and spared my life,”

“It was an unfortunate situation all round. I am King now and would not tolerate hunting a child like that. I am curious as to what you will do now?” Arthur asked,

“I am not too sure sire, but Camelot is a place of opportunity. I may see what is around,”

“I have an idea, something for you to think about,”

“Oh?” Mordred asked, suddenly curious.

“I was wondering if you would like to join the Knights. Percival and Gwaine were impressed with your fighting skills, when the bandits attacked. You will naturally have to go through the normal routine, but if you are good enough then I see no reason why you cannot join,”

“Thank you sire, it would be an honour to serve you,”

“That’s agreed then. Go and get some practice with the Knights and once I can swing a sword, we will see what you can do.”

“Thank you, sire. I won’t let you down,” 

“I am sure you won’t Mordred,”

Mordred closed the door behind him and shut his eyes. It was more than what he was expecting, he still couldn’t believe that he had the chance to join the Knights of Camelot. He had already got to know Gwaine and Percival especially. They were already giving him tips on his fighting stance. 

His confidence had grown hugely from when he had arrived. He was fast and nimble, while not a natural swordsman his agility allowed him certain advantages. He vowed to continue to improve, so that when his test day came, he would pass with flying colours.

From then on, he fought with Gwaine and Percival every day, honing his talent and feeling the benefit. By now, he had begun to get to know Leon as well and he enjoyed listening to the experienced Knight on how he could further improve and how Arthur would test him. By the time the big day had arrived, he was feeling ready and confident for what lay ahead.

It took place in the field by the castle. There was a big crowd watching, but Mordred stayed focused on what he had to do. He suddenly saw Arthur, with Emrys following him. He let his eyes focus on the King, but he knew that Emrys would be glaring at him. The two had not spoken properly since he had arrived in Camelot. But Mordred didn’t need a conversation with him, to understand the other man’s view of him. He made it clear. But Mordred refused to let it ruffle him.

“So, Mordred let’s see if you have the talent to make a Knight,” Arthur shouted.

For a couple of seconds, they each circled the other, then Mordred decided to go for a quick strike, but the King had his sword there before he’d even completed the move. Arthur then boldly went on the attack, Mordred parried the first blow, he managed to avoid the next one, before finally countering the third. He took some satisfaction in knowing the King needed to shuffle backwards.

He thought about all the tips the Knights had given him, about always staying alert. He bent over focussing his eye on Arthur, he anticipated the next move from the King and then managed to catch him unaware, Arthur was forced back once again. They then both went for it, Mordred managed to match him in the beginning, before long the experienced hand of the King took over. Before he knew it, Mordred was on his back, with Arthur’s sword on his chest.

He swallowed his disappointment thinking he’d failed. But presently Arthur pulled him up, a smile on the King’s face.

“You fought well Mordred. I think you have passed the test,” the King commented.

“Thank you sire,” Mordred replied, laughing as the other Knights moved towards him offering their congratulations. Only Emrys remain rooted to the spot, a look of fury on his face. 

The next day, Mordred had been made a Knight officially. He had never been so nervous as he walked down the great Hall. It was full of the Lords, Knights and other dignities, Mordred hardly dared look and just faced the front determined not to slip over. As Arthur touched him on the shoulders with his sword, an emotion poured over him. 

He had achieved something in his life, he would have a chance to be part of something good. No more living in the boundaries, keeping to the background. It was something he had dreamed about ever since being a frightened boy, in the Druid camps he’d grown up in. He felt an outsider no longer and yet he sensed there was a shadow which hung over his dream. Someone who had been less welcoming. Emrys.

Mordred had no idea why Emrys was so distant from him. He had even tried to explain the comments which he’d said at their meeting when he was still a child. To Mordred the “threat” he’d issued had happened to almost somebody else. He felt nothing bad towards the Sorcerer, he knew though Emrys’s thought differently and nothing he did, appeared to make a difference. By now he had wondered outside the Great Hall, lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly a voice broke in, disturbing his calm.

“Let me help you with that,” 

As usual, Emrys at been in the shadows but he felt him take his cloak from him. Then Mordred felt the edge of his words as he went on.

“You know, it would be different if Arthur knew you had magic,” Emrys began, “Tell me something,”

“Anything,” Mordred remarked, feeling calmer.

“You saved Arthur’s life. Why?” Emrys asked, a coldness to his words.

“Because Arthur was right. In my brief time with Morgana she had lost something, her humanity. There was a saying I learnt in the Druid Camps, the love that binds us is more important than the power we yield. Morgana had forgotten that,” Mordred turned to face Emrys. The sorcerer looked at him, as if wondering to believe him or not.

It was something he reassured himself about, when he was thinking about her. He still owed her something, but he knew he could not reconcile with such a cruel magic. For a moment he thought about Kara, all passionate and fiery. He hoped she’d be safe where she was. Suddenly he remembered Emrys was still present.

“Thank you,” Mordred said. He watched as Emrys disappeared out of the door and wondered if he would one day earn the legendary Sorcerer’s trust? A sad part of him already knew the answer to that, but for now he contented himself with the new home he had been granted.

The end.


End file.
